Unremembered

by Jessica Brody

  I frown and shake my head. ‘I don’t understand. It seems like a pretty straightforward question to me.’

  ‘Let me ask you this,’ he begins pensively, folding his arms across his chest. ‘If a human being – a man – were to lose his arm or his leg in an accident and it was replaced with a prosthetic – an artificial limb – would he still be human?’

  I rub my left wrist with my right hand. The shackles left a reddish mark around my tattoo that quickly starts to fade. ‘Yes, of course.’

  He nods. ‘And what if he lost all his limbs and had four prosthetics – two arms and two legs – would he still be human then?’

  I shrug. ‘Yes.’

  He twists his mouth, causing his red beard to ripple. ‘OK. Now he goes blind. And his eyes are replaced with small cameras that send signals to his brain to tell him what they’re seeing. Is he human?’

  I nod hesitantly but don’t reply.

  ‘And he needs a heart transplant. So doctors give him a synthetic heart. It’s manufactured in a lab but it works the same way as an organic heart. Is he still human then?’

  I shift uneasily in my seat, not liking where this is going. ‘I suppose so.’

  ‘And then his brain melts down but doctors are able to download and copy all of his memories and experiences on to a computer. They build him a synthetic brain that will function exactly like his old one.’

  ‘Are you talking about me?’ My voice is quivering and my eyes are misting with tears. ‘Are you saying I have a synthetic brain and heart and cameras for eyes and prosthetic limbs?’

  ‘Shh,’ he soothes, pushing himself off the contraption and hurrying towards me. He kneels down again at my feet, looking up at me. And once again I can’t help but remark upon the kindness of his eyes. ‘No, Sera. I’m simply giving you a very extreme example to show you how complicated a question it is.’

  I feel my whole body deflate with relief.

  ‘What makes us human?’ he asks. ‘Is it our hearts? Our brains? Our senses? Our limbs? Ask a hundred people and you’ll get a hundred different answers.’

  I peer down at my legs, remembering how fast they carried me through the trees. So fast my pursuer couldn’t keep up.

  ‘What are you saying?’ I ask hoarsely. ‘How does this apply to me?’

  ‘Sera,’ he begins gently, ‘you are so special. Unlike anyone. My greatest creation of all time.’

  ‘Creation?’ I repeat. My lips feel numb as the word stumbles out of them. ‘What did you do to me?’

  He takes hold of one of my hands, rubbing a rough thumb over my skin. ‘I made you perfect.’

  My mouth goes dry. I try to swallow but it only makes me gag. I try to speak but words won’t form. It’s probably for the best. I’m not sure what I would say anyway.

  ‘You are the first human being in the history of the world to be created entirely by science. The most flawless sequence of genetic code in existence. Everything that our species has been craving – beauty, strength, intelligence, resistance to disease – has been engineered in you.’

  His words haunt me, causing my lips and fingers to tremble. I shake my head, wishing I could scream at him to stop talking but I can’t. And so he goes on.

  ‘Researchers have been working on the science of synthetic biology for years now. It’s the creation of life from scratch. Synthesizing in a lab what Mother Nature has been making in her backyard for aeons, and then improving upon it. But no one had ever progressed further than a few single-celled organisms. That is, until us. Until . . . you. You are one of a kind. A scientific miracle.’

  Infuriation rises in my chest. I don’t want to be a scientific miracle. I don’t want any of this.

  It’s the anger that finally revives my voice. I open my mouth to express my grievances aloud but I never get the opportunity.

  A booming voice echoes from the entrance of the barn, startling both of us.

  ‘GET AWAY FROM HER!’

  I turn to see Zen walking slowly towards us, a heavy determination in his step. His arms are stretched out in front of him and cradled in his fingers is a device I’ve never seen before. It looks to be made out of some kind of black metal and it’s shaped like an upside-down L. There’s a round barrel with grooves in it that sits in the middle.

  The redheaded man rises quickly to his feet. ‘Lyzender,’ he states calmly, as though he expected this encounter.

  Zen continues to approach us, stealing a curious glance at the unconscious men on the ground while keeping the device pointed firmly at the redheaded man’s face. ‘Step away from her, Rio.’

  I glance between them, confused by their exchange. ‘You two know each other?’

  They both ignore me.

  ‘This isn’t necessary,’ says the man Zen addressed as Rio. ‘You can put the gun down. We’re both on the same team here.’

  ‘Like hell we are!’ Zen shouts. He takes a step closer to the man and shoves the black object in his face.

  Gun.

  Gun.

  I rack my brain for a definition but find nothing.

  ‘What is that?’ I ask, standing up and walking towards Zen, my eyes glued to the object in his hand.

  ‘Sera, be careful!’ the redheaded man warns me, reaching for me. But Zen forces him back with another wave of whatever is in his hand.

  I freeze in place. ‘What is it?’ I ask again.

  ‘It’s a gun,’ the man identified as Rio explains. ‘It’s a weapon that can be used to kill or severely injure someone.’

  ‘Oh!’ Zen cries out, rolling his eyes. ‘So suddenly you’re willing to teach her things.’ I can hear the sarcasm on his tongue. It’s bitter. I now understand the definition.

  ‘I taught her everything she knows,’ Rio argues back.

  Zen shakes the gun. ‘No! I taught her everything she knows. You ruined her life.’

  Rio holds his hands up in a surrendering gesture. ‘I can see how you would view it that way, Lyzender, but I assure you—’

  ‘Shut up!’ Zen screams, transferring the gun to one hand and beckoning me forward with the other. ‘Sera, we’re getting out of here. Why don’t you wait outside while I take care of him.’ He pronounces the word with an air of disgust.

  I glance between them again, the seriousness of the situation starting to sink in. ‘No.’

  ‘Sera,’ Zen says, losing his patience, ‘this is not the time for you to argue with me. Please, just step outside.’

  ‘I don’t think you should hurt him,’ I say. I have nothing to back up my plea except for a nagging feeling in my chest.

  Zen closes his eyes for a brief moment. ‘Sera, you’ve lost all your memories. You don’t know what I know. He’s evil. And selfish. He doesn’t have your best interests at heart. He has only his own.’ He sighs. ‘Sera, he does not love you.’

  Love?

  The word takes hold inside my brain and doesn’t seem to want to let go.

  ‘He released me,’ I hear myself argue in response.

  ‘Because he wants to take you back there!’ Zen argues passionately. ‘And continue to destroy your life.’

  ‘That’s where you’re wrong, Lyzender,’ Rio interjects. ‘I only want to—’

  Zen takes another step towards Rio, the gun now a mere foot away from his head. ‘I said SHUT UP!’ he yells. ‘Don’t try to confuse her again. It won’t work any more.’

  ‘Stop!’ I shout desperately, holding my head in my hands. ‘Please. I need to think.’

  Zen falls quiet and they both look at me. I massage my aching temples with my fingertips. This is too much information to absorb at once. I can’t process it all. I don’t know how to make sense of it. I need to sort through it one thing at a time.

  I begin with ‘How do you know each other?’

  ‘My mother works with him,’ Zen says, disdain dripping from his tone.

  ‘And where do you work?’ I ask Rio, but Zen is the one who answers.

  ‘At an evil corporation that has zero respe
ct for human life. Something I didn’t realize until it was too late.’

  Diotech.

  Rio closes his mouth and juts his chin forward.

  ‘What do you do for them?’ I ask Rio, but again Zen is the one who responds.

  ‘This!’ Zen motions to me. ‘This is what he does! He toys with people’s minds. He manipulates reality. He plays God. He turns human beings into . . .’

  ‘Into what?’ I ask feebly. ‘Into monsters like me?’

  Zen’s harsh expression immediately softens and he moves closer to me, careful to keep the gun pointed directly at Rio. ‘No.’ He uses his free hand to touch my face. ‘That’s not what I meant. I’ve never thought that about you.’

  ‘Then what did you mean?’

  ‘I didn’t—’ Zen struggles to find the right thing to say. ‘I . . . just mean, you can’t ever go back there with them. I won’t let you. Because who knows what they’ll do to you.’

  Rio is mysteriously quiet. I assume he’s either hiding something or he’s given up trying to argue with Zen and his gun.

  Or he’s silently acquiescing.

  I step up to him, close enough to feel his strained breath on my face.

  ‘Sera,’ Zen warns. I hold up a single hand to silence him.

  I peer deep into the redheaded man’s tired, hooded eyes. They’re a faded greenish-grey colour with tiny specks of brown. He holds my gaze. Tenaciously.

  As hard as I try, I can’t find anything malicious there.

  In fact, I only see the opposite. I see the way Heather looks at Cody. The way Kiyana looked at me.

  Can you fake something like that?

  I wish I knew.

  ‘Is it true?’ I challenge Rio. ‘Those things he said about you?’

  ‘Sera.’ I hear Zen groan behind me. ‘I wouldn’t lie to you. I’m not him.’

  ‘Is it true?’ I press, ignoring Zen.

  Rio’s swollen eyelids drift to a close. ‘It’s true,’ he whispers.

  I break eye contact and turn to Zen, who appears genuinely surprised by Rio’s admission.

  ‘I’ll go with you,’ I tell Zen. ‘But only if you don’t hurt him.’

  Zen’s temper flares again. ‘Sera, you don’t understand. This won’t stop. They’ll keep looking for you. This may be the only chance to—’

  I raise my hand in protest again and Zen stops talking. Then I reach towards him and turn my palm up. With a sigh, he relinquishes the gun to me. It’s heavier than I thought it would be.

  ‘OK, let’s go,’ I say. Gripping the weapon carefully in my hand, I start walking towards the crumbling doorway. I don’t look back at the redheaded man, who stands alone in the middle of the empty barn. I don’t know if I have the strength to.

  24

  ESCAPE

  The dry, faded leaves crunch beneath my feet as they pound the dirt floor of the forest. I don’t know where we’re going but I’ve deduced that Zen does not own a car. Which must be why we’re on foot. His pace is significantly slower than what I now know I’m capable of, but his hard, laboured breaths tell me that this is his top speed. They also tell me that I shouldn’t try to speak to him because most likely he will not be able to respond until we’ve slowed down.

  The gun is still heavy and awkward in my hand. I try to slide it into one of the many pockets of my pants, but it’s too big.

  Finally, after we’ve been running for fifteen minutes, Zen slows to a stop.

  He leans forward and puts his hands on his knees, panting heavily. ‘That should do it,’ he says between wheezes.

  ‘That should do what?’ I ask, my own breath perfectly even.

  He takes a moment and a few more strained gasps of air before he answers, rubbing at his damp forehead. I like the way the moisture makes his hair curl. And the way his eyes reflect the moonlight.

  ‘I had to get you far enough away so they wouldn’t be able to scan you,’ he explains.

  I look down at the thin black line on my wrist. I remember seeing the scar-faced man on the sidewalk and feeling my tattoo sizzle. Is that what was happening? Was he scanning me? Like a package of food at the supermarket?

  ‘How does it work?’ I ask.

  ‘Similar to a bar code. The line looks solid but up close it’s actually a unique design that their scanners can recognize and track.’

  ‘And it’s tattooed into my skin?’

  Zen shakes his head. ‘Actually, no. We learned that one the hard way. We tried to remove it once but it simply grew back. Exactly the same. Apparently that design is programmed into your DNA. Like the shape of your nose or the colour of your eyes. So even if someone tries to cut it out, when the skin heals, the same mark will always appear.’

  I touch the blackened skin, sweeping my fingertip back and forth. I want to ask more but I’m not sure I can handle the answers right now. So I decide to stick to something simple. Easy. ‘Where are we going?’

  Zen straightens up and looks at me. The endearing crooked smile I remember from the supermarket and the dressing room is nowhere to be found. Now all I see is a grim expression and hollow eyes. ‘We’re going somewhere safe. At least for now. Until I can figure everything out.’

  I watch his eyes move down my face towards my neckline, and he smiles for the first time. It’s a weary smile. ‘You’re wearing it again.’

  I feel for the locket. I had tucked it under my shirt earlier but it must have bounced out while I was running. I bite my lip, unsure what to say. Unsure even what to feel.

  ‘I like seeing it on you.’ He steps towards me, extending his hand. ‘May I?’

  I don’t know what he’s asking permission for but it doesn’t really matter. I find myself nodding to his request, whatever it is.

  As he reaches for the locket, his fingertips lightly graze my collarbone, sending tiny prickles over my skin. Having him this close to me is doing peculiar things to my lungs. Only a moment ago it was Zen who was having trouble breathing. Now it seems I’m the one who is out of air.

  He carefully unlatches the clasp, and the small heart swings open. Unexpectedly his brow creases and his smile sags into a frown.

  I peer down. ‘What’s the matter?’

  ‘It’s empty.’

  ‘I know,’ I say. ‘It was empty when they found me.’

  I watch Zen’s mouth contort in disappointment. ‘Then it must have fallen out at some point.’

  I pull on the chain, drawing the locket out of his hands and into mine. ‘What fell out?’ I ask desperately.

  With a wistful sigh he turns and starts walking. ‘A pebble.’

  Perplexed, I look after him and then hurry to catch up. ‘A pebble? Why a pebble?’

  ‘It was to remind you of what’s real.’

  ‘Why would I need to be reminded of what’s real?’

  He slows slightly and looks to the ground. ‘Because not everything in your life was.’

  I see a clearing up ahead. We’ve almost arrived back at the highway. Every few seconds another set of car headlights passes by, illuminating the road for a moment before it returns to darkness.

  But I can still see everything flawlessly.

  Which is unfortunate because I notice smoke rising above the trees a few miles to our left and I know immediately that it’s the site of the accident. The one I caused. The guilt wrenches through me again and I have to swallow another rise of acid in my throat.

  ‘Why are they looking for me?’ I ask, thinking back to the man with the scar who chased me all the way out here.

  Zen starts walking towards the road and beckons for me to follow. ‘Because you escaped. Well . . . we did. Together.’

  ‘Because we’re soulmates?’ I ask, the unfamiliar term feeling awkward on my lips.

  As much as I once wanted to believe that everything he told me was a lie, after all that’s happened in the past hour it’s decidedly more difficult to do so.

  Zen laughs. It echoes beautifully in my ears. ‘Well, yes. There was that reason. But mostly it w
as because we figured out what they were doing to you.’

  ‘What exactly were they doing to me? I still don’t completely understand.’

  Zen’s smile fades almost instantly. ‘Neither do I.’

  ‘But you just said—’

  His arm juts out in front of me, bringing me to a halt. We’ve stopped in front of the highway. There’s a lull in the traffic and Zen reaches for my hand. We sprint across together. The touch of his skin against mine makes my entire body hum. I don’t want him to let go but he does as soon as we reach the other side.

  He doesn’t seem to notice my disappointment when his fingers slip from mine. He just keeps walking.

  ‘I know you have a lot of questions,’ he begins, as he heads towards the far north side of town. ‘But I think it’s better if I don’t answer them.’

  My feet slow to a stop and I scowl in his direction. ‘What? Why not?’

  He stops too and glances back at me. ‘Because knowing you, I honestly don’t think you’d believe me.’

  His response makes my head spin. How am I supposed to remember anything if he won’t even tell me what happened?

  ‘You’ve always had a tendency to trust only what you can see and touch and define,’ he goes on. ‘Facts and numbers. They’re what you rely on.’

  I’m somewhat staggered by how accurate his description is.

  ‘Which is why,’ he continues, ‘I think it’s better if I show you.’

  Show me?

  He starts walking again and I follow closely behind as he leads me back into the small, sleepy town of Wells Creek. We cross the deserted main street and continue up a hill. I note the street sign as we turn on to a narrow road: BRADBURY DRIVE. And the building we eventually stop in front of is marked by the number 1952.

  1952 Bradbury Drive, room 302.

  Where Zen told me he was staying. Where he asked me to meet him when he cornered me in the dressing room.

  But the part that confuses me is the sign out front that reads MARK TWAIN ELEMENTARY SCHOOL.

  Why would Zen be staying at a school?

  He taps on a small numeric keypad on the front door and then yanks it open. He beckons for me to enter but I hesitate.